


Illness

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Series: The Acrobat and The Mercenary [62]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dick is kinda a brat in this, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sick Character, Sick Slade, Sickfic, Vomiting, but I mean..., but yeah, possibly graphic?, this is it, throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: “When was the last time you were sick?”“Fifty-six years ago."





	Illness

Slade made a sound between a growl and a groan, spitting several times into the chucky, green tinged toilet water before standing on weak legs and flushing the mess away, shooting another paranoid glance towards the closed - and locked - bathroom door.

Pushing himself towards the vanity and leaning heavily on his elbows as he ran the water, Slade tried to wrack his brain for the last time he’d been sick.

He’d been twelve, he finally decided.

He cursed quietly as he reached for his toothbrush to scrub out the sour taste in his mouth. He was sixty-eight and he hadn’t been this sick in fifty-six years. He scowled at his pale reflection, spitting angrily into the sink and rinsing his mouth out several more times before slowly straightening up.

It’d be bad to pass out on the bathroom floor. 

Again.

He closed his eye as a pounding began in his head. An incessant beat that probably meant he wasn’t going to be getting anymore sleep the rest of the night. 

Probably best, he mused as he moved slowly towards the bathroom door. He could do without the dreams about Grant and Joseph and Adeline that woke him seconds from throwing up.

He turned off the bathroom light before opening the door, doing his best to stay quiet so he didn’t accidently wake Dick up.

That attempt didn’t last long when a wave of vertigo hit him so hard he smashed his thigh into the side of the bed and slammed into the floor without any hope of catching himself before the impact could jar his already upset stomach.

He waited a beat, trying to see if the noise had woken Dick.

“Slade?”

It had.

“Fuck,” Slade muttered elegantly, staying sprawled on the floor as he willed his stomach to settle down enough to stand without heaving again. 

He sighed softly when he heard the telltale sounds of Dick shifting in bed before the room lit up as the acrobat flipped on his bedside lamp, sitting up.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he got to his feet, rounding the bed to gaze down at Slade’s form. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“Push-ups,” Slade decided to reply, forcing himself into a push-up as evidence. He didn’t like to lie, especially since the two of them were only just getting back onto good terms. But he didn’t want Dick to know he was sick.

He wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Push-ups,” Dick repeated skeptically. “At four in the morning?”

“No better time.”

Dcik was silent for a moment. “Are you sick?” he asked gently.

Slade’s arms were shaking by that point so he eased himself to sit down and lean against the bed, peering up at Dick and hoping the light was poor enough that the acrobat couldn’t see how pale he was.

“What gave you that impression?” he asked.

Dick crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard you throwing up in the bathroom,” he replied.

Oh.

“I’m fine, little bird,” Slade soothed with a strained smile. “Just something I ate.”

“Something you didn’t eat, you mean,” Dick corrected. At Slade’s confused silence, he explained. “You didn’t eat dinner last night, remember? You said you had a headache. You went to bed earlier.”

Slade cursed himself for forgetting that. Dick sighed, a sad and tired sound. “We just got back together two weeks ago and you’re already lying to me?”

He sounded hurt and it sent a pang of guilt through Slade’s already rolling stomach. 

“Dick-”

“If you didn’t want me to get involved, you could have just told me that,” Dick went on. He sounded like he was about to cry. “You didn’t need to lie to my  _ face _ , Slade.”

“Dick,” Slade tried again. “May I explain?”

“You know, I always wondered how we made it through three years of marriage without fighting,” Dick went on. “Guess whatever force out there that hates me decided to just wait until now.”

Now Slade really felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” he sounded like he was a second away from crying, now. Worse than before. “I’m sorry I pressed. I know how fragile your ego is. I’ll go back to bed. And in the morning, we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Slade pressed his lips together, watching as Dick turned his back on the mercenary, walking to get back in bed and flip off the light.

He didn’t move again, even when Slade finally managed to pull himself in bed.

………………..

Slade woke up just in time to sit up and heave into his lap, bile spilling across the plush duvet, thick and stringy and yellow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick sitting up quickly, hair sticking up in every direction as he was rudely woken.

Slade was too distracted by spitting out his guts to focus on what Dick was doing until a trash can was being shoved into his lap. He gripped it tight, groaning and retching, shivering when the soiled duvet was pulled off the bed.

“I’ll clean that later,” Slade barely managed to groan out before a thick, gross burp forced itself out of his throat.

“You’re sick,” Dick told him, angry tone from earlier gone and replaced with something more gentle. A small hand settled between his bare shoulder blades, rubbing gently as Slade shook and sweat. “Don’t strain yourself. Breathe, okay? You’re alright.”

Slade nodded and turned his head when his stomach settled enough that he didn’t think he’d throw up if he wasn’t inhaling the rank smell.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as Dick rolled the duvet into a ball to stuff into the washer.

“Don’t be,” Dick told him. “I’ll be right back after I turn the washer on. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

Slade shook his head, nausea filling his head too much to form words. Dick hesitated like he wanted to say something but he turned and left.

……………..

Slade felt miserable. Worse than he had in  _ years _ as he lay in bed, curled around his stomach and occasionally leaned over to spit bile into the trash can on the floor. Whenever this happened, Dick appeared to sit next to him and rub his back, pulling his hair out of the way.

But as soon as he was done and Dick had finished cleaning out the trash can, Slade was alone again. He figured it had something to do with the fact that he’d lied to Dick earlier but at the same time, the acrobat was being sort of petty.

………………….

He was dozing when he heard the door open again, bare feet padding against the hardwood before a cool hand pressed against his burning forehead.

“You have a fever,” Dick murmured as Slade slowly dragged his eye open, staring blankly up at Dick who was looking down at him with worry in his eyes. “Do you think you can stomach some bread and tylenol? You shouldn’t take the medicine on an empty stomach.” 

Slade grunted, slowly sitting up with Dick’s help and accepting the bread and pills he was handed. He nibbled on the bread for a bit before accepting the pills from Dick and swallowing them down with a bit of water.

Once finished, Dick helped him sit up against the headboard of their bed before Dick got into bed on his own side, curling up next to Slade.

“I’ve been kind of immature today,” Dick told him softly, tracing shapes in Dick’s thigh as the mercenary willed his stomach to retain what he’d eaten. “I shouldn’t be angry that you lied. You’ve lied to me before and it was never a problem.”

“We were never married before,” Slade mumbled, closing his eye.

“I still didn’t need to throw such a fit.”

Slade hummed, peeling open his eye. “Did someone talk some sense into you?”

“I complained to Jason,” Dick replied with a soft laugh. “He kinda bitched at me to suck it up.” Dick shifted, intertwining his fingers with Slade. “I promised you, when we got married…” he gave a small smile. “In sickness and in health.”

“In sickness and in health,” Slade repeated.

“Until death do us part,” the two recited together.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad,” Dick said softly. “And I’m sorry I’ve been such a petty brat today.”

“You had every right to be.”

“Maybe,” Dick acquiesced. “But if I was going to be a bitch, the least I could have done was act out when you weren’t already feeling like shit.”

“It’s alright,” Slade told him. “Although you shouldn’t get so close to me if you don’t want to be sick.”

“I don’t care,” Dick replied. The two dropped into silence for a few moments until Dick spoke again. “When was the last time you were sick?”

“Fifty-six years ago,” Slade replied sourly.

“That sucks,” Dick told him. “I’m sorry.”

Slade nodded. After a moment, he carefully pulled Dick close. “Soon as I’m feeling better,” he murmured. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Dick laughed softly. “I look forward to it,” he said, smiling at Slade. “I’m sorry we ever fought. I’m sorry we ever separated and sorry I ever considered divorce.”

“It’s over now,” Slade told him. “That’s the important part.”

Dick nodded. After a moment, he spoke softly. “I love you.”

Slade smiled, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eye. “I love you too, pretty bird.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Also, I'm thinking about only having 45 works in this series so it's ending soon.
> 
> Will it end with death?  
: )  
maybe...


End file.
